He hastened home with the utmost speed that his legs would carry him. He had a reason--at least he thought he might have one in future--for not wishing it known at home that he had paid that visit to Lady Oswald's. The late returners from church were but in the streets when he went back, slowly pacing along in the lovely autumn night. He whisked in just in time to admit the ladies. "Is papa in, Neal?" "Yes," answered Neal, haphazard, for he was of course not positive upon the point. "I fancy he is in his room, Miss Sara." Sara knocked at the consulting-room door and entered. As she went forward, Neal contrived to obtain a passing view of the interior. It was still in darkness, and Dr. Davenal was leaning his back against the window-frame his arms folded, his head bowed, as one will stand when under the weight of care. "It looks just as though he had purposely killed her," was Neal's comment to himself. Not that Neal thought it _then_. No, no. But Neal was in a state of terrible vexation and disappointment; in that precise mood when it is a vast relief to vent one's trouble upon anybody. "How sad you look, papa!" cried Sara, as she noted his depressed attitude. "And you are all in the dark!" Dr. Davenal aroused himself, put his hand on his daughter, and turned round to face the street. At that moment the death-bell rang out. Accustomed now to the darkness of the room--not that it was entirely dark, for the doctor had thrown open the Venetian blind, and the gas-lamp cast in its rays brightly--Sara could see how sad and clouded was his face. The death-bell was striking out its quick sharp strokes. "Do you know who the bell is tolling for, papa? I never heard it ring out so late as this." "I expect it is tolling for Lady Oswald." "Papa! For Lady Oswald?" She quite shrieked as she said it in her startled surprise. "She is dead, child," he said, his subdued voice a contrast to hers. "O papa! Was it the operation? Did she die under it?" "Yes--in one sense. The operation was successfully accomplished, but--chloroform was exhibited, and she never rallied from it." Sara stood still, her heart beating. It seemed that a hundred regrets were crowding upon her, a hundred questions. "O papa, why did you administer chloroform?" she exclaimed, scarcely knowing what she said. For a single moment the temptation came over Dr. Davenal to tell his daughter the truth, and he had unclosed his lips to speak; but he checked himself in time. Sara was trustworthy--he knew that; but it was impossible to answer for chance or inadvertent words, even from her; and for Mark's sake it might be better to leave her in equal ignorance with the rest of the world. "My dear," he said--and the words to her ear sounded strangely solemn--"I have striven to do the best always for my patients, under God. Had I been able to save Lady Oswald's life, I would have saved it."